Category: Spoken Word

In Jesus’ Name – A Poem

Ryan A. French 
I’ll always be a poser. 
A loser at heart. 
The inside is broken. 
The outside’s a frame. 
I do it all in Jesus’ name. 

Fame brings no fortune. 
And fortune, no fame. 
The elements twisting. 
Aligning the game. 
Run for the hills in Jesus’ name. 

I’ve always been homeless. 
A wandering soul. 
Jealous of nothing. 
Yet wanting it all. 
Find contentment in Jesus’ name. 

Peace brings no freedom. 
And freedom, no sleep.
The contention still lives.
It always remains.
Til’ the trump sounds in Jesus’ name.

Can you value the future?
Surrender the past? 
Love what’s leftover?
Relinquish the masks?
Just lay them down in Jesus’ name.

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What Will Become of Us All? – A Poem

Ryan A. French 
White picket lines of peaceful persuasion
Cannot undo the cost of invasion
Endless fine lines of baser perversions
Weakened strains of moral conversions
Flawlessly wielding falsified searches
What will become of us all?

Cold, calculating meaningless data 
Hiding underneath the smiling strata 
Clinging to less fortunate ideas 
Laughing, dragging, while dreaming of sions
Intricate veins coursing with curses
What will become of us all?

Meanwhile, one white robed throng preaches the Writ
Tenaciously keeping holy flames lit
Falling valiant, bleeding from vicious slits  
Ten thousand swords critically slashing hits
Battered, beleaguered saints climb past ashen fritz 
What will become of us all?

One bright light pierces the eastern sky
A triumphant shout falls from mountain highest   
One brilliant white horse gracefully flies
The armies of Heaven closely aligned 
Every blood-stained voice shouts toward the sight
What will become of us all?

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Better (A Poem for JJ)

Ryan A. French1 Comment 
Everything meant to break us made us stronger than we were before.

Every fear meant to freeze us made us braver than we were before.

Every lie meant to ensnare made us wiser than we were before.

Every dream we thought was dead is bigger and better than it was before.

Every sad song became a worship medley in the playlist of our lives. 

I remember when we talked and you cried tears of joy and healing was in the sky.

Our hearts soared to spiritual heights as realizations of love filled our eyes.

I remember when you took my hand and asked if we would always be alright. 

I knew then that God would always be at the center of our lives. 

He took broken puzzle pieces, trampled-twisted; flipped them around, and made masterpieces with them. 

Every hurt meant to embitter made us better than we were before.

Every hit meant to bruise made us bolder than we were before.

Every strain meant to drain us made us fuller than we were before.

Every chain meant to enslave made us freer than we were before.

Every fallen tear became a bubbling brook in the landscape of our lives. 

I remember when the sun stood still and your eyes grew wide as strong winds beat against us for the very first time.

Life did what life does and pain tried to quench the light but you grabbed my hand and held on tight.

That was far from the last time but it was a beautiful beginning to a wonderful life.

“Every sad song became a worship medley in the playlist of our lives.“

God takes broken puzzle pieces, trampled-twisted; flips them around and makes masterpieces with them. 

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Love or Hate?

Ryan A. French5 Comments

Stop and think, does what you say some come from a place of love or hate?

If love then great. If hate, stop, and pray. Pray for your inward state.

Because without grace this life is a waste.

If you offend from a place of grace than you’ve stated your case in a godly way.

But if hate is hidden behind fake grace you lose faith.

And worse, your neighbors lose faith in the words you say.

Regardless of whether you’re right or wrong; no one wants to hear an angry song played out of key with broken strings.

That’s what hate sounds like; out of sync. The beat, the rhyme, the melody all collide, it shrieks.

Regardless of whether you’re right or wrong; no one wants to hear an angry song played out of key with broken strings. That’s what hate sounds like; out of sync. The beat, the rhyme, the melody all collide, it shrieks.

Loud and shrill it rolls off your tongue, like honey filled with glass, it cuts deep.

So be careful not only of the words you speak but of the heart that beats.

Say hard truths, that’s ok, but always with love and not with hate.

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The Upside Of Loneliness

Ryan A. French

Loneliness is like a healing stream it hurts until you hear the music sing, and it reveals all your inward things. It stings in the silence of the night when you find out that your heart’s not right. And you hold on tight to the broken puzzle pieces that just won’t fit into your preconceived ideas about life. But pray until you see the light of a dawning sky, like acid it burns at first until your sorrows melt like butter, only then will you discover the meanings hidden beneath your tears.

Loneliness reveals the secret things that we all hold dear. It strips your conscience bare. Down to the bone, it digs until all your fears come up for air. Capture those fears and hold them tight until they die underneath the weight of faith. Faith is the substance of things unseen just know that it’s difficult to breathe when faith is fighting strange foes from below. But this is the measure of your strength; will you fight or lose sight of who you were meant to be?

Like a wordsmith, Satan shapes your thoughts until loneliness forces his manipulation into an open battlefield with your soul. Muster your last ounce of courage and careen into that confrontation with desperate anticipation knowing that you will not fight alone. The great God of heaven and earth will move like lightening, fighting, conquering when you fail, strengthening when you’re weak.

That’s the upside of loneliness, it reveals our hidden strengths; it unveils our deepest needs and pushes us to our knees. It brings us to dependency on a higher power that we all so desperately need. Why does it take such extremes for us to finally see that we’re all just candles in the wind in need of a flame that only God can bring? His fire fills and consumes. It heals and destroys at the same time. It thaws against the icy tendrils that grip a lonely heart until you feel alive and free.

Loneliness is like a healing stream, it hurts until you hear the music sing. And when you finally hear the song, don’t forget to sing along.

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The Words We Speak

Ryan A. French3 Comments

Click here to watch The Words We Speak visual blog.

I think sometimes that time stands still when we’re facing judges and holding grudges. Like old knives, we sharpen our remarks into thinly veiled slices that dice and splice until nothing is left but pain and violence. Nothing cuts deeper than pointed remarks that open up scars, they bury straight to the heart of the matter, and all of this chatter makes friendships scatter, faster than rats on a sinking ship.

I wish we could all just skip these unnecessary scripts where we demolish our friendships and burn down bridges. When will we ever learn to tame our tongues, turn the other cheek, and keep the peace? Because our words create a world of hurt that does not heal with a thrill or a cheap pain pill, it takes real determination to keep our mouths closed tight and avoid the fight, but take every unkind name throw it away, and speak peace into a brand new day.

Remember, every critical remark creates a spark that burns into a raging blaze that spreads out of control until the heat is more than anyone can take. What a tangled web we weave when at first we fail to see that careless words march on like unseen armies. They crush and they break and they alienate, until families no longer speak, friendships litter the streets like war-torn causalities.

When will we learn to tame our tongues, turn the other cheek, and keep the peace, take inventory of the words we speak? Think of the difference we could make just by thinking before we say what pops into our heads on any given day. It’s safe to say the world would be a better place. Less hate, less pain, less heartbreak. Lay down your daggers and defenses, trade them in for tools that mend fences; tear down walls and build up bridges.

I think sometimes that time stands still when we’re facing judges and holding grudges. Like old knives, we sharpen our remarks into thinly veiled slices that dice and splice until nothing is left but pain and violence.

What a tangled web we weave when at first we fail to see that careless words march on like unseen armies. They crush and they break and they alienate, until families no longer speak, friendships litter the streets like war-torn causalities.

Lay down your daggers and defenses, trade them in for tools that mend fences; tear down walls and build up bridges.

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Resolved

Ryan A. French3 Comments

Resolved Audio

Royal veins flow through my blood. It pumps and drips and falls and floods. Like a saga, it journeys on never stopping to hear the song. And if I could quiet the noise in my ears the melody could take me far away from here, and every mistake, every twisted trace. But for now, this throbbing pain is all through my brain, it fills my thoughts like a sinful stain, it melts my heart without a trace.

The ache is real but the hurt is fake, and it’s all I can do to stay awake. But I have resolved to pray and pray until these demons have gone away.

Would you do more if you could see your fears like tangible things springing into your atmosphere? Or would you cower into the shadows like an overgrown child running from faith like it was out of style? These are the questions we ask when we have too much time, too much space, and too much at stake.

The ache is real but the fear is fake, and it’s all I can do to stay awake. But I have resolved to pray and pray until these demons have gone away

Twisting grace has become the norm for some and now everyone’s soul is on the run. Every turn brings a brand new pain and every valley leads into a deeper place. Until mountains are dimly lit memories from another space, and time that won’t return, until we learn to turn back to the Son that saved us all with blood, and nails, and wood, and grace. We forgot that place as we traveled along never stopping to sing the song.

The ache is real but the fear is fake, and it’s all I can do to stay awake. But I have resolved to pray and pray until these demons have gone away.

And away they’ll go if I can keep the faith, walk in the light and not the gray. But strange voices pull and they tug, nameless faces call my name from dimly lit places on every lane. The strain is strong as I pull away back into the light of day.

The ache is real but the fear is fake, and it’s all I can do to stay awake. But I have resolved to pray and pray until these demons have gone away.

Twisting grace has become the norm for some and now everyone’s soul is on the run. Every turn brings a brand new pain and every valley leads into a deeper place.

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